I’ve heard that Death is soft so that when we hold it, it does not callous our hands. But when I play the guitar you gave me, I press the strings too hard and leave valleys running across my fingertips. The chords aren’t kind. The rhythms aren’t pitying. Death isn’t soft.
Good sir! When I behold thee proud and tall, Full of thyself, commanding, seeking praise, Withholding all advance, all kindly phrase, Thy sullen mouth turn’d downward, and withal An unforgiving man! Still then I fall And yearn, and seek, and melt at thy caresses, Still then I lift my face at thine addresses, Believe…
Sometimes Time seems but a sad joke Millions of tiny pictures Bright, flashy, Cheap. All crowded Into a frame which reads, Your Life. But if you push aside That frame, You’ll see a curtain From afar It looks so thick You could never see through. But if you come up close You’ll see It’s really…
“The Lucky Leprechaun” by Caroline Filocamo ’26 Oh la, ti-dah, Today’s the day, I make a quick get-away! The boys and girls have built their traps, And planned out all the treasure maps Made to lock me up in a box — But they forget I am sly as a fox! “Better luck next time”…
By Giuliana Cappi, ’22: What is more beautiful than a smile? Is it when you make her cry? Her bleeding heart as she reaches out for you. The stumble in her legs as she runs to catch you but watches as you slip through her trembling fingers. Trying desperately to pick up the pieces you…
